


I know him like I know my own mind

by Smaragd_Witch



Series: Stories told by songs [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Hamilton - Miranda (Broadway Cast) RPF
Genre: Alexander is an asshole in this one, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bitter break-up, Cheating, F/F, F/M, Hamilton being roasted in the form a song again, Heartbreak, Is indifference, James the supportive yet too smart friend, Jamilton - Freeform, Jane Jefferson Mother F- Parenting, Lams - Freeform, M/M, Marliza, The opposite of love isn't hate, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-16 03:56:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16077881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smaragd_Witch/pseuds/Smaragd_Witch
Summary: “Mr Jefferson? Alexander Hamilton”That man introduced himself as if they didn’t know each other, as if those months hadn’t happened at all.Or: We've got not enough Hamilton roasted with only Congratulations, Burn and First burn, so here it is another song.





	I know him like I know my own mind

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: Swearing  
> DISCLAIMER: The musical belong to Lin-Manuel Miranda

“Mr Jefferson? Alexander Hamilton”

 

            That man introduced himself as if they didn’t know each other, as if those months hadn’t happened at all.

 

            Thomas shook his stretched out hand for pure formality. And because James’ fixated stare was starting to burn in the back of his head. Washington made his way in between the two men, sensing the tension between his financer and the new secretary* and wanting it to end.

 

“Mr Jefferson, welcome to the company” he said, now with a smile more forced than before the interruption of Hamilton, who stood beside the large figure of Washington, smiling up at him with those eyes though his lips were a straight line.

“Thank you, sir” replied Thomas, his glare going unintentionally to the smaller man and refusing to leave his hunger-pang frame.

 

            He prayed for his new boss not to notice, and that, if he did, to be silent and discreet about the strange behaviour and sudden change of demeanour after Hamilton and he were ‘introduced’.

 

            His doubts about the existence of a God above were proved wrong once more when it was James the one confronting him when they were left alone. His best friend was so much worse than any boss.

 

“What was all that about?” asked James, standing in front of him to prevent him to walk away and dodge his interrogation.

 

When his friend used his calculating mind with him, Thomas hated him so much. His glance darted to the same man once more, and Thomas frowned slightly when he found Hamilton returning the glare, still with that funny gleam in his eyes. His blood boiled when now his lips accompanied the mocking shine on his violet-blued magnet.

 

“Thomas?” called James, arching one eyebrow.

He shook his head, thanking his friend for breaking the spell. “It’s nothing” he lied, gesturing his yearning for leaving that hallway (more like _that penetrating glare_ ).

James obliged, thank goodness. “Alright. When you feel ready to tell me, invite me to lunch and we talk it out” he proposed, following him to his office.

“Why would I pay lunch and tell you something I don’t want to talk about?”

“For lying to me”

“I have not”

“You just admitted to have something to tell”

Thomas turned around, nose scrunched up. “I hate you”

“There’s a nice café a few blocks away, I’m only saying that” continued James, now with a tiny smile on his face.

 

 _That man you see over there,_  
_who looks so gallant,_  
_so thoughtful and arrogant,  
_ _I know him as I know my own mind._

 

* * *

 

            Thomas loved his older sister*. She was the only sibling he got along with and had always been a pillar of support when tough times whipped. But when things like this happened, Thomas really doubted inviting her to live with him was a good idea.

 

“When will you stop laughing?” he asked, annoyed, cooking their supper as she waited at the table, cackling and crying uncontrollably.

“When I stop thinking it’s funny” she replied, wiping one tear away.

“So, not any time soon” sighed Thomas, frustratedly.

“I fear so” she shrugged, with a playful smile.

“In that case, will you explain me the joke? I’d love to laugh at the situation”

“Can’t you see it for yourself? Are you kidding?” inquired the woman, leaning on her seat as she tapped her long nails on the wood. “Your new job is working for your ex. It’s sitcom material, however you look at it”

“Maybe because you’re not the protagonist” complained Thomas, under his breath. “And I don’t work _for him_ ”

“You’re the secretary. In essence, you work for everybody in there”

“You’re not making this any better”

“You can always quit”

“You do realise I’m the one who puts the bread on the table*, right?”

“Buuuh, you’re starting to sound like Mum”

“Hey, it’s not necessary to insult”

“For your information, I already have my novel’s synopsis” she declared, raising her chin with pride.

“Oh?” Thomas turned around, smiling now as well. “Care to share?”

“Not spoilers. Even if it’s slightly based on you”

“Oh, for god’s sake…” Thomas rolled his eyes as he turned around.

“Told you it was a good story!”

“Don’t you even _dare_ ”

“You’re not fun”

“I have enough with telling James over a lunch _I’ll have to pay_ …”

“Jemmy doesn’t know?”

“Shut your mouth, you’ll get flies”

“Let me go with you. When will that be?”

“Jane, don’t”

“I’m not a dog”

“True, dogs are way more obedient”

“Again, you sound like Mum”

“Another insult and you won’t get any dinner”

“It’s not my fault. Blame genetics”

“Besides, this was all your fault in the first place”

Jane opened her eyes as much as she could. “My fault? Excuse me, how is your disastrous love life _my fault_?”

“Because you’re a shitty matchmaker”

Jane gasped dramatically. “The last time I help you out!”

“Swear it. In front of a notary public, please”

“I won’t have dinner tonight!” exclaimed his sister, running out of the kitchen and upstairs.

Thomas sighed and stood at the doorframe, seeing her hoofing on the steps. “ _You_ were the one who wanted dinner early because you were _starving_ ”

 

            A slam on the door was all the response he got.

 

“Now, who’s acting like Mum?” questioned Thomas, not loud enough for her to hear and returned to pay attention to the food.

 

* * *

 

 

_“Tommy, that man over there keeps looking at you”_

_“Jen…”_

_“I’m gonna go and introduce you”_

_“Don’t you even…”_

_Thomas was left alone, talking to the breeze his sister left as she trotted to the good-looking man at the other side of the room. He bit his bottom lip anxiously as he moved his glass of wine to entertain his eyes with anything else but the stranger. He looked around in case his mother could be there. She and Mrs Knox didn’t get along, but she’d come if only for the appearances. Despite Thomas and she had already fallen apart for whom Thomas felt attracted to, he still didn’t want her to see him blushing while talking to another man. Actually, he didn’t want anyone to see him like that._

_Jane, oblivious to his desires (or deciding to simply ignore them in order to, as she’d put it, ‘help him to let himself go once in a while’), returned with that man, chatting lively, as two old friends. How she did it, Thomas never knew._

_“Here’s my brother” she introduced them, friendly. “Thomas, he’s Alexander Hamilton”_

_Alexander stretched out his free hand. “A pleasure”_

_His polite gesture was answered by a stain of wine on his green jacket, as Thomas used his left hand out of habit._

_“Oh, my gosh, I’m sorry” he hurried to say, as Alexander and Jane looked at his last blunder._

_“Gee, Thomas, way to go”_

_His sister, ladies and gentlemen, as supportive as always. Thomas cursed her name under his breath as he looked for some paper towels on the table he’s been beside to the whole party. Thankfully, he found some tissues he took quickly, whipping around and bathing Alexander once more, this time on the face._

_Jane’s loud laughter soon called the attention of curious eyes, who also smiled discreetly at the image._

_“I’m sorry, I’m sorry” repeated Thomas, as he tried to clean his mess._

_“It’s alright, it’s…” tried to say the man, watching him doing the task with a single hand while he tried to keep focus on the other, where the now empty glass was. “Let me do it” he proposed._

_“No, it’s alright, I’ve got it” assured Thomas._

_“You sure?”_

_“Rub, rub, keep rubbing” joked his sister._

_“Jane, not_ now _” he hissed, throwing daggers at her laughing form. Turning to the man, who was now smiling as well, he kept saying: “I’ve got this, it’s…”_

_And then, the glass slipped from his hand and crashed on the floor._

_That resurrected Jane’s laughter, and made a few more people accompany her; not as loud but annoying enough for Thomas to blush even more as he decided which problem to take care of first._

_“What the fuck is wrong with me today?” complained Thomas, hissing from embarrassment._

_“Let me” said Alexander, taking the used tissues from his hand and taking a few steps back. “I’ll take care of this” he explained, pointing at his jacket._

_“I’m sorry” he repeated for the zillionth time that night._

_And Alexander gave him the same, automatic response. “It’s alright” He handed him a piece of paper where he’d written a phone number at some point. “Maybe we can try again some other day? In a more private place”_

_“Sure” answered Jane on his behalf when she noticed how shocked he was. And thank goodness for her habit of sticking her nose in his life from time to time, because right now Thomas could do no more than taking the paper, silently._

_“Good. See you, then”_

_Alexander bid farewell to the two siblings before turning around and walking to the staircase, a small smile on his face._

_The butterflies in Thomas’ stomach didn’t allow him to care that time._

_“Well, that’s an original way to get a date” commented Jane, jocosely._

_“I’d call it a stroke of luck” responded Thomas, looking at the phone number, still not believing his eyes._

_“Hey, it could’ve been worse”_

_“How?” he asked, sceptical._

_“You could’ve told him you were bored out of your mind”_

_“And how’s that worse?”_

_“He’s the child of the Knox”_

_Thomas looked at her, a little pause of bewilderment. “You’re kidding…” he said, doubtful. Jane shook her head, destroying his hopes. “He doesn’t even resemble any of them” he complained._

_“Fostered” explained Jane._

_“You truly interrogated him within the first minute of knowing each other, huh?” he asked, taking another set of tissues to clean the glass on the floor._

_“Nah, I heard Mum badmouthing Mrs Knox for it the other day”_

_Thomas showed a face of repulsion at the mention of their mother. “Can’t blame her, she only knows about kicking her own children out. Fostering or adoption is not her dictionary”_

_“Don’t wear that face now all evening” lectured Jane, for once sharing his seriousness. “You could offend the hosts”_

_“I already offended one”_

_“He didn’t seem very offended” countered Jane, wiggling her eyebrows. “You’re welcome, by the way”_

_“Hm…”_

_“Hey, if you, at some point after the date, wanna a ménage à trois, call me”_

_Thomas blushed once more. “Jane!”_

_“I’m just saying if you really loved me, you would share him”_

_“Ha!”_

_That man you see over there,_  
_who appears to be divine,_  
_so affable and effusive,  
_ _only knows how to make you suffer..._

 

* * *

            James was less cruel and mocking about the whole issue once Thomas told him. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t join Jane when she accompanied them somewhere or James wanted to spend the night at his friend’s.

 

“Two months, really?” asked James, hiding his growing smile with the rim of his glass.

“Yep” nodded Jane.

“Almost three” Thomas defended himself, weakly.

“In that case: almost three months, really?” James reformulated the question.

“Yep” repeated his sister, nodding more exaggeratedly than before. “And that’s not even the shortest relationship he’s been in”

“True. Martha”

“That wasn’t even a relationship” groaned Thomas, rolling his eyes. “And we ended on good terms”

“Surprising, taking into account you lasted two days” laughed Jane.

“That was because I’m gay”

“And what excuse do you have now?” asked James, arching one curious eyebrow, Jane struggling to keep her laughter under control.

“I love myself too much” shrugged Thomas, not getting into detail.

 

* * *

 

_“Where have you been? I’ve called you more than six times. I’ve got your automatic voicemail memorized by now” Thomas confronted Alexander as soon as he came through the front door. Three hours later than they’d planned._

_Alexander took his time to answer, only talking when his glare was fixated on his jacket, as he hung it. “I was in a meeting with a client, I couldn’t pick it up”_

_The excuse worsened Thomas’ anger. “And what were you doing in a meeting on the same day we were supposed to be having dinner?”_

_Alexander’s eyes grew wide. He looked over Thomas’ shoulder as he hissed and buried his eyes with his hand. It made Thomas to calm down considerably and forget about the hours he’d waited in ire and agony._

_“I’m sorry, I totally forgot today was the day” apologised Alexander, sounding sincere. “I’ll make it up for you, I promise”_

_Thomas scrunched up his nose at the well-known sentence. He looked at Alexander’s exhausted expression and he felt his heart aching at the view. When was the last time he’d slept eight hours? In a row, preferably?_

_“No, it’s alright. Finish what you have to and then we can make plans” he decided._

_He was still mad the dinner was wasted, but he didn’t see the reason in doing anything while Alexander’s mind wasn’t going to cooperate in relaxing and have a nice time. The best option was to let him do his work and try to take him out of his office before he could get his hands on another project._

_“Are you sure?” asked Alexander, with a frown._

_“Yes” he assured, resigned. “Let me pick up the table and I’ll be with you in a moment”_

_“Actually” interrupted the Caribbean, before Thomas had even finished. “I was going to improve a few things before going to bed”_

_“Alexander…” began Thomas, feeling the anger coming back at full force._

_“It won’t take long” promised the immigrant, already making his way to his workroom._

_Thomas kept looking at the staircase even after Alexander was long gone._

_“Nice chat” he muttered, bitterly, as a door was closed upstairs._

_And if Thomas sensed the scent of a woman’s perfume on Alexander’s clothes as he passed the coat stand by, he pretended it was his rage playing tricks on his mind._

 

* * *

 

 

 _That man you see over there,_  
_who appears to be kind,_  
_generous and pleasant,  
_ _I know him as I know my own mind._

 

            The worst part wasn’t ‘working for his ex’ (which he was not; no matter what his sister claimed); the worst part was witnessing every freaking person he crossed paths with falling for his charms. Whether it was a client or a workmate, Hamilton always knew what to say and how to say it to get them in his pocket. Just as he’d gotten Washington, who looked at him as he’d hung the moon and showed clear favouritism in each meeting they’d had so far (and didn’t even bother to conceal it or make it more discreet for the sake of professionalism, something everyone in there seemed to lack).

 

It was infuriating to say the least.

 

            Hamilton had even made it with James, at some time before he got hired.

 

“He wasn’t that bad when we worked together. Or even now, after all your bickering and cold-shouldering” his friend commented, trying to reach a peace between the two hot-headed men.

 

            He ignored his words and maintained his behaviour towards the immigrant, whose only response was to give him the same, multiplied by two. Or five if he was having a really bad day.

 

            Thomas huffed as he remembered that day Washington had to tell the apple of his eyes to take a walk because Hamilton had lost control over his tongue (the little he had) and had told him to turn around and bend over so he could show him where his shoe fit. The table erupted into laughter as Washington told his ‘not-son’ off, while Thomas simply thought the same as now: _he’ll never change_.

           

And his conviction never flattered every time Hamilton showed another part of him to the rest of the staff. Today, it was Maria’s turn: the girl was battling against the PC in a calamitous war she was about to lose when Hamilton appeared, offering his help. Thomas watched it all unfold in front of his eyes.

 

“Thank you so much, Alex” the girl said, blushing with embarrassment as he taught her the proper way to use the new printer. “These things are getting more confusing the newer they got”

“It’s about practice” dismissed the financer, as he handed her the documents. “If you need help any other time, come get me”

 

            Thomas rolled his eyes as Maria thanked the immigrant again and he heard her heels distancing as he cleaned the mug he’d used to drink his coffee. He hoped he wouldn’t bump into Hamilton on his way back to the office.

 

“Morning”

 

            Of course, not such a luck for him.

 

“Good morning” he replied, more dryly.

“Nothing better than drinking coffee while watching a show”

 

            Well, they started soon.

 

“Didn’t want to steal your spotlight”

“How considerate”

“One of us have to be it”

 

            The frown of anger Hamilton threw his way was worth the sacrifice of talking to him with all the politeness he could use.

 

“Well, I can’t say I envy where your consideration has got you” replied the financer, sharply.

Thomas clicked his tongue. “I’m sorry for not being able to trample people to get what I want”

“I don’t trample anyone,” retorted Hamilton, his eyes on fire, his body straightened, and his chin raised in defiance; he was ready to fight. “I work incessantly to get what I want”

“Yes, I was seeing it” nodded Thomas, his mug already cleaned, his task finished.

 

He was now looking at Alexander directly. He had nothing in his hands, he had both arms crossed, his hip against the counter and his whole attention on the top of Thomas. He’d just come to start a fight and provoke him. Well, Thomas could play that game as well.

 

“Was she the last one on your list of conquests?” he asked, out of the blue, pointing with the head in the direction where Maria’d been.

Instead of the infuriating look Thomas was waiting from the other man, Hamilton simply smiled cockily. “If you want a second round, you only need to tell me”

Thomas huffed, trying to hide the shade of carmine of his cheeks. “Thought you didn’t even remember” he replied, a bit too harshly and bitterly for Thomas’ taste. He recalled all those times James had told him his mistakes were born because of his strong emotions, always getting away from any type of control he wanted to tie them up with. Regaining his composure, he turned down Hamilton’s offer: “Not in a million lives. I’m a man who never stumbles over the same stone twice”

“Keep fooling yourself into thinking you didn’t enjoy it” teased Hamilton, turning to the cupboards to finally take a mug himself.

“Oh, yes, I’m so fond of those memories. You taught me how to fake orgasms convincingly” he said, deciding Hamilton’s click of tongue was the perfect moment to leave him behind and go back to work.

“Like I care” replied Hamilton, comically childish. “I was minding my own business”

“As usual, darling” drawled Thomas, with a smile of superiority plastered on his face, a bitter taste dancing on his tongue.

 

* * *

 

_That man you see over there,_  
_who seems to be so secure [of himself],_  
_to solely do good around the world,  
_ _only knows how to make you suffer._

            Hamilton had been talking for six hours straight. Everybody had stopped paying full attention after one hour. Washington was the only one who kept his eyes on the financer, though it was clear his mind drifted away from time to time, in dire need of a breather. Thomas accompanied the CEO in his almost constant attention to the immigrant’s speech.

 

            Thomas observed his movements, his mannerisms, his tone, his attitude, that hubris each one of his words wore. He noticed the glares Hamilton threw in Laurens’ direction. He seemed to be the only one who understood the true depth of the action. He seemed to not be the only one to know how hard these things were for Hamilton, despite his incapability of summarizing his discourses.

 

            He narrowed his eyes at Laurens, when he nodded to what Hamilton was saying, in an encouraging way. The closeness those two shared was almost palpable. The love disguised as friendship seemed to fool everyone but Thomas, who had been in Laurens’ position a long time ago. Thomas frowned his lips as a series of memories came back in a flash.

 

            And he wondered.

 

            Did Laurens also find half of his bed coldly vacant after a heated night? Did he battle Hamilton’s demons just for the effort to not be reciprocated as well? Did he find himself as lost for Hamilton putting his obsession over his own legacy above anything and _anyone_ else as Thomas had? Did he cry as Thomas had for impotence? Did he feel as helpless as Thomas had for seeing it all slowly burning? Was he also ignoring the signs because of the seldom moments Hamilton turn tender and gentle? Did he also believe that was the real Hamilton as Thomas had?

 

            A knot appeared in his stomach when he saw Hamilton dropping himself on the chair beside Laurens and both friends began to whisper to one another, his voices unnoticeable for the commanding and deep tone of Washington’s.

 

            Thomas swallowed the lump in his throat. A part of him wanted to ignore them, told him it was their life and their trouble; another part, maybe the humane part of him that his mother hadn’t succeeded in killing despite her many efforts, wished Laurens for the good. He didn’t seem like a bad person.

* * *

 

 

_“You need to stop” begged Thomas for the hundredth time._

_He frowned, entering the workroom his… What? Lover? Boyfriend? Alexander had been locked up in for almost a week. If it hadn’t been for Thomas’ visits in order to bring him something to eat, he wouldn’t have eaten for his own will. The thought terrified Thomas beyond comprehension._

_“Alexander” called Thomas, sternly. His mood didn’t get any better when he heard the exasperated sigh of the shorter man._

_“How many times are we going to go through this?” he wondered, out loud._

_Maybe it’d been his exhausted tone; maybe it had been his display of surfeit; maybe it’d been all the times Thomas had thought that same thing but had been polite and supportive enough to not saying it out loud and less with that fucking tone of condescendence._

_Whatever reason, it’d been enough for something inside Thomas’ head to click._

_“I don’t know, why don’t you tell me” he began, and his sharp tone was as foreign to Hamilton’s ears as it was for his. He always tried to keep things cool between the two of them, but that didn’t mean Thomas didn’t have his own fire within and was unable to use it. “How many more nights are you going to postpone all the plans you promised me we’d do together? How many times will I have to come in here to feed you as if you were a pet instead of a functional human being? How many times will you stand me up because you were more focused on your paperwork than on me? On_ this _we have?”_

 _Alexander overcame his shock quick enough after the last statement: “And what’s_ this _we have, according to you?”_

_Even when it was Thomas’ turn to be angry, Alexander found the way to trap him. There was a pregnant silence none of the men dared to break. For once, the non-stop Caribbean let life pass him by, all for the sake of embarrassing him, for hearing what both knew Thomas had started to feel but refused to put into words in fear he could get hurt._

_Alexander took cruel advantage of the fact that Thomas’d rather being toyed with than directly hurt. He enjoyed it, he cherished it. It was his little game that helped him do anything else but overwork himself to death, it was something to keep his mind busy until duty called. He’d use him when he felt desperate, when he’d got lost inside the dark corridors of the forgotten back of his mind. He did it because he knew Thomas’d go. Without a second thought, Thomas had gone. Without wanting something in return, just because he loved him._

_Because he loved him._

_He felt attracted to him when he saw him in that party his foster parents threw; he had fallen hard the first time he could hear him talk and witnessed his passion first-hand; he forgot how to breathe when Alexander was not by his side. And without realising a crush had turned into love._

_And Alexander knew, and he played with it. With_ him _. With his trust all those nights he lied saying he was with a client; with his self-esteem each time he snapped at him for not comprehending his obsession with work over life; with his feelings each time he’d showed himself all caring and tender to just be cold and distant one second after._

_And the worst part was that Thomas tolerated it because he’d rather have that than nothing at all, than face loneliness. For Thomas, the fact that Alexander came back to him by the end of the day was enough; but Alexander was never satisfied. He wanted more, and more, and more. And he never stopped. And he never returned any favour or support Thomas had provided for him to keep fighting. Had never showed an ounce of regret for such a lack of gratitude._

_On the contrary, he thanked Thomas with this: embarrassing him at the reminder that he’d fallen in his trap and now didn’t know how to get out. With the fact that a big part of Thomas didn’t want out, wanted to fight to change him, to take Alexander’s best part out, the vulnerable part that had showed Thomas at his worst because, deep down, he knew he could trust the Virginian._

_Thomas frowned at the expecting form of Alexander. Inhaled slowly as the Caribbean opened his mouth to throw a witty remark that’d silence him until the next fight for his unhealthy behaviour would arise. There was good in Alexander. Or used to be. Thomas didn’t know anymore. And he didn’t have enough patience, strengths or low self-esteem to find out._

_“A mistake” he answered, finally._

_Hamilton clicking his mouth shut was the most satisfying sound Thomas’d ever heard._

_The silence the room was sunken into as he left without another word as well._

_And the narrowed glare, pressed lips and tight grip Hamilton had on his pen an image he’d leverage when doubts came to attack him as they usually did, testing him about his life decisions._

_It hurt and it was difficult, but Hamilton helped him see he’d done right._

_He didn’t go after Thomas, didn’t contact him after that, didn’t try to make amends or reach a friendly agreement._

_If Hamilton wasn’t going to help him fix this, it might be because it’d been broken from the start and Thomas realised later than he did._

_He's such a stubborn man;_  
_a conceited idiot,_  
_selfish and capricious._

 _A vain buffoon,_  
_thoughtless and boastful;_  
_a false, resentful midget  
_ _with no heart._

* * *

 

            Thomas saw the ring for the first time during the Christmas party their law firm had assisted to on their last day of work before the real holidays began.

 

“You end up fooling the poor soul into marriage, huh?”

Hamilton threw him a sideways glare as he tapped a nervous finger on his plastic cup. “You’re a real conversation starter, Jefferson”

Thomas shrugged, standing by his side. “I’m better at finishing things, actually” he said, smiling at the stung expression that took over the immigrant.

“And even better at embittering the mood”

“You were already doing that with your Grinch face” countered Thomas, taking a small gulp of his drink, enjoying the sweet taste the discomfort of his workmate added to it. “Relax, we all know about your awful temper and have suffered your annoying shouts; if somebody saw a person fool enough to get close to your new husband, they’d be quicker than you to get him away from them. We’re liking the peaceful evening”

“Wife”

“Pardon?”

Alexander took his time, to put Thomas on his nerves on purpose. “I married Eliza; not John. We’re not even a thing” he clarified, throwing him a curious glare Thomas tried to ignore.

“Angelica’s sister?”

“The same”

Thomas threw an impressed huff. “You set your sights high this time”

“When have I not?”

“Do you realise this time you could get burnt if you played with the Schuyler’s fire, right?”

 

            Thomas and Angelica shared a friendship. Not a very closed one, but they were getting there slowly. The woman respected his space good enough and that was always a good sign for Thomas’ trust to be given in small portions until a strong bond was created with a new human being. He knew Angelica was the fiercest of the sisters (and that was the reason why Alexander had set his eyes on her at first, if the rumours were true. Thomas absolutely believed them), and that if someone dared to touch anyone from her family, especially her beloved sisters, she wouldn’t think it _once_ before going after their heads in seek of justice.

 

Alexander scoffed. “Thanks for your concern. But Eliza and I are fine”

“You’re so fine that you proposed me a second round not two months ago” commented Thomas, almost comically.

“Not my fault you aren’t good for anything else than that” spat Alexander, furiously, as he ended his drink in one gulp.

Thomas turned his head completely, eyes narrowed and glare sharp. “Your stupid pride would be the end of you one day, I swear” he complained, trying not to get in his game; he’d done that several times before and decided to put an end to that. Besides, he refused to make a show for such an insignificant living being. “Beware, Alexander, it’s said to go before the fall” he said, as a farewell, before leaving him behind.

 

            And that time felt better than the first one. A sensation that grew stronger and bigger as he saw the infuriated looks Alexander threw in Eliza’s way (it’d been _her_ the one he’d been keeping an eye on all evening) every time the woman got closer to Maria. Thomas smiled to himself and stood in the shadows, as he’d spent their whole relationship like, just that now was for witnessing Alexander’s world (the one he’d made with so much effort) crumbling.

 

            Maybe he was cruel, but it was only because he’d had a great master.

 

 _Full of jealousy_  
_with no reasons or motives._  
_[He's] As impetuous as the wind,_  
_rarely affectionate,  
_ _unsure of himself._

* * *

 

 

            Eliza divorced Alexander six months after.

 

            The reason: she’d fallen in love with another person, had had an affair and Alexander had found out the last. And still didn’t have the strengths to take the step himself. Turned out his feelings for the woman were true after all, and he had wanted to fight to keep the marriage and start over, a thing Eliza disagreed with. How ironically fair.

 

Thomas didn’t know what to think when the news reached his ears. It’d been James the one who told him, knowing now the whole story behind Hamilton and him. A part of him was happy, he wasn’t going to deny that. And he was sure if some other person that had dated the immigrant had known about it, would’ve felt the same.

 

A part of him even enjoyed seeing the Caribbean more subdued, silent and doing just the exact amount of work he was asked for. While the others commented in worry, Thomas relished the moment, smiled each time Hamilton had to get something from Maria and he was now the one in a uncomfortable position; smirked when Maria was still liked among their workmates, even Hamilton, because, damned, the girl was a good soul whose only sin had been falling in love with a woman that married the wrong man; cherished every moment Hamilton turned down Angelica’s offers to hang out, knowing his group of friends still included the two women he loved and despised in equal parts, that had made his heart to shatter and his brain to formulate a million questions with no answer as to what he ought to do now that he was in the other side of the heartbreak; made sure to take a good look at the lonely form of the man, hunched over his desk, writing his messy thoughts down in his unhealthy way of facing his countless problems, each afternoon before going back home when the work day had finally ended.

 

It was cruel, sick even, twisted. Thomas never thought he’d enjoy so much with another person’s pain, especially a person he’d loved so much, who’d stolen his heart… Maybe it was because of that. A heart for a heart. It was just.

 

            Thomas came to that conclusion one night he had to stay late for finishing some paperwork and so have the weekend all for himself.

 

            Came to that conclusion the same night he had to bump into the mess Alexander Hamilton had turned into. Thomas knew he had to be there, he usually was, hateful of the idea of going back to an empty house. Though that was surely less pathetic than spending the night fighting against a photocopier.

 

“Damn machine from hell” Thomas heard him hiss under his breath, before deliver another kick that resounded throughout the silent building. “Even _you’re_ against me”

 

            Thomas rolled his eyes. Only that man could be so egocentric to actually think inanimate objects could pick sides.

 

            He turned to the exit, resolute to get out and go back home, repeating the pathetic scene inside his head over and over to finish the day on a good note. But his feet glued to the floor when he heard a single and muffled sob from the room.

 

            Well, that surely escalated quickly. He enjoyed seeing the ones who wronged him paying for it, but he wasn’t his mother.

 

            He sighed and turned around. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of the financer. His clothes, which he always made sure to be perfectly ironed, were wrinkled. His hair was a mess tied up in what people could only guess was a ponytail. Alexander Hamilton, a man who’d rather die than let anyone see him in a vulnerable state was shaking in spot, eyes covered by a trembling hand, falling apart.

 

            Thomas decided to pay attention to the photocopier, it was easier. The flickering light told him what was wrong and he didn’t know what to think of Hamilton not finding out the solution himself.

 

            He pressed the button and the machine began to function, roaring for the mistreatment. Hamilton was startled and he looked up, the air caught in his throat when he saw there was still someone in the building with him. And the last person he’d have wanted to see him like this, above all.

 

“You had to press that button to confirm now it had the sheets to work” he explained, dryly.

Alexander looked at the photocopier, doing its task, as if he’d forgotten why he was there in the first place. “Ah…” was all he could mutter. He turned around, in a useless attempt of pretending he wasn’t about to cry before Thomas interrupted him. “What’re you doing here so late?”

“Could ask you the same question”

“Only if you were stupid enough to not know the answer”

“And this is why you spend your nights alone in a law firm, fighting with a photocopier” deadpanned Thomas, pursing his lips in the end to prevent himself from saying something worse. Unlike _others_ , he was not heartless. “Try not to murder anything else before leaving”

 

            Just as he was about to leave the room, Alexander’s voice stopped him dead in his tracks.

 

“I’m sorry”

 

            Two words. That was all they were. Two words. Simple and shorts, but with so much meaning, able to hold such a depth depending on the context, on the background. Not enough for repairing a damage, but a good start in doing so.

 

“What for?” he asked, after a pause.

 

            And Thomas hadn’t realised how much he needed to hear it from Hamilton’s lips, from his mouth, with his voice, the same arrogant and confident voice that could change the point of view of a million men if he wanted to; that had spoken so many lies with such an ease they could become true just for how well said they were. He needed to hear more than the two magic words to feel satisfied.

 

“For everything”

 

            Of course Hamilton would choose this moment to be concise.

 

“You deserved better”

 

            Well, brevity was the soul of wit for a reason.

 

“As well as Betsey” muttered Alexander. Same bitter tone, same addressee.

“For once, I couldn’t agree more” replied Thomas, looking over his shoulder.

 

Hamilton hadn’t moved from his spot, wasn’t even looking at him. The photocopier had finished its task already, but the financer didn’t seem interested on the paperwork. For once.

 

“Pick that up. I’ll drive you home” he offered, after a third thought to make sure it was his brain talking and not his heart.

“It’s not necessary”

“I know. But if you’re gonna show up dead one morning, let’s not be it after the same night I decided to stay late”

 

            That caused a single laugh to escape from Hamilton’s mouth.

 

            Thomas felt the tension they’d been living for months inside the same building dissipating slowly.

 

“I’ll wait for you in the entrance” he explained, about to leave.

“Thank you, Thomas”

 

            And the honesty in his tongue along the mention of his name after so long, without any disgust hanging, made him to finally reciprocate the financer’s smile.

 

“It’s nothing, Alexander”

 

            And both knew he was lying. Because it was everything in that moment.

 

 _Bearable as a friend,  
_ _insufferable as a lover..._

**Author's Note:**

> *As the Lams fic, with hints of H is for Hamilton, though you don't have to read all that to follow this, as this is another AU of an AU. There, Alexander's the CFO while Jefferson works just as the secretary.  
> *The real Thomas Jefferson is said to have a very good relationship with his older sister, Jane.  
> *To put the bread on the table (Poner el pan sobre la mesa): It means to be the one who brings money to the house.  
> *Despite Maria and Eliza having the affair, Alexander wanted to end on good terms with them becuase they were good friends at first. The hard part comes from his romantic (unrequited) feelings towards Eliza.
> 
> Song translated/adapted: Ese hombre perfomed by Rocío Jurado and written by Ana Magdalena and Manuel Alejandro.
> 
> Leave a comment and kudos if you liked it (and if you want, of course), and thanks for reading, it means a lot! :D


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